


if only all our hopes were to be here

by ghostscissoring (shmabs)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Insecure Seokmin, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sweat, They're in LOVE love, folks this is just tender porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmabs/pseuds/ghostscissoring
Summary: “Minghao, why--” Seokmin starts, but his words end in a squeak when Minghao lets his weight settle fully onto Seokmin, head tucked into the dip of Seokmin’s shoulder, chests pressed together tightly. Pale thighs are bracketing his, and Seokmin’s are so much thicker in comparison that he swallows harshly, mouth suddenly dry.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 22
Kudos: 227





	if only all our hopes were to be here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dygonilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/gifts).



> this is for kim, because of course it is, because she's the best xoxo
> 
> this is set in some au where seokmin is an actor and minghao is a painter/photographer/artsy boi
> 
> also, i didn't tag bc it's not explicit but there's mentions of cockwarming and (consensual) somnophilia that both parties are very into, but if that's a hard no from u then u might not wanna read this!

It’s summer, and Seokmin is in love.

“It’s summer, and I’m in love,” he sighs the words out on an exhale, letting them linger in the humid air before blowing them away with a gust of breath and a giggle. It’s July, the hottest, sweatiest, stickiest month, and Seokmin is on the verge of overheating, pits and thighs and face damp already, but getting out of bed seems significantly less important than teasing Minghao. 

“Yah Seokmin-ah, why do you have to say it like that? It’s so embarrassing.” Minghao is mostly asleep still, face tucked into his special orthopedic pillow and voice muffled because of it. It’s funny, the way Minghao is so cute without even trying. 

Seokmin lets the fingers of one hand walk gently up the bend of Minghao’s sharp elbow, the slight bulge of his bicep, the ball of his shoulder. Minghao grumbles--or at least Seokmin thinks it’s meant to be a grumble--but it sounds so much like a cat that’s just been woken up that Seokmin feels his eyes scrunch closed in delight. 

“No,” Minghao whines, tilting his face toward Seokmin so it’s no longer mashed in his pillow. His eyes are open, barely, and he’s looking at Seokmin with a deep set frown that Seokmin doesn’t believe for one second. 

“Don’t you love me, Xīn'ài? Why would that embarrass you?” Seokmin pouts, overdramatic and ridiculous, and wants to laugh again at the way Minghao rolls his eyes but inches closer all the same. Seokmin prides himself on being a good actor, but it’s nice to know that it doesn’t take good acting to get Minghao to do what he wants. 

“Of course I love you,” Minghao mumbles, eyes drifting shut. One of his hands clumsily pats across the space between them until it lands on Seokmin’s thigh, fingers spreading out wide and then gripping tight enough that Seokmin lets out a startled gasp. Minghao smiles, eyes still closed, and pulls insistently until Seokmin’s bare thigh is thrown over his. 

It’s even hotter, now, skin pressed to sweat-slicked skin, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. 

“You love me even though it’s too hot for you?” Seokmin presses, letting his fingers drift up the column of Minghao’s neck, tapping his knuckles lightly against Minghao’s Adam’s apple. _Knock knock, anyone home?_

“Yes.”

“You love me even though _I’m_ too hot for you?” Seokmin rolls his eyes at his own joke and wriggles closer to Minghao on his own. 

Minghao slits his eyes open, and Seokmin--

Seokmin realizes a second too late that he said something wrong.

Minghao moves in a flash, a blur of limbs and sheets and hair, and when Seokmin is able to breathe again he’s flat on his back, Minghao hovering over him. He doesn’t look half asleep anymore. 

“I do love you,” Minghao rasps, late morning sun kissing the crown of his head and turning his hair gold. Seokmin aches to press a kiss there too. 

“I know you do, baby.”

“And you _are_ too hot for me.” Minghao glares down at Seokmin, daring him to argue. 

“Baby, please, we can both be hot together.”

Minghao shakes his head, firm. “No. You’re so hot, way out of my league.”

“Minghao, why--” Seokmin starts, but his words end in a squeak when Minghao lets his weight settle fully onto Seokmin, head tucked into the dip of Seokmin’s shoulder, chests pressed together tightly. Pale thighs are bracketing his, and Seokmin’s are so much thicker in comparison that he swallows harshly, mouth suddenly dry. 

Seokmin loves Minghao’s body so much, the lean lines of him, the way his whipcord strength houses a heart made of blood and sinew and the softest velvet. He likes his own body, too, likes the things it allows him to do, knows that he’s handsome enough to get by as a working actor, loves the way Minghao knows just how to touch him to make him shake with pleasure. 

But Seokmn has a habit, a reflex of putting himself down sometimes, just as a joke, that makes Minghao prickly and upset, makes him regard Seokmin with the same kind of determination he uses when he looks at what should be a finished painting and finds it wanting. 

It used to make Seokmin curl in on himself, wilting at the intensity of Minghao’s gaze, the single-minded resolve. 

Now, it just makes his gut throb with want. 

“Let’s skip brunch,” Minghao says, and doesn’t wait for Seokmin’s response before taking his mouth in a soft kiss. 

_Hello_ , the kiss seems to say. _Hello, good morning, I’m here, I love you_ , and Seokmin has always marveled at the way it’s easier for Minghao to communicate with his body than his words, how he can say so much more with just the wry twist of his lips, the flutter of his pretty hands, his knife-sharp gaze.

Seokmin parts his mouth automatically, lets Minghao overwhelm him, press him down into their bed until he’s panting. His hands are clutching helplessly at Minghao’s slender hips when he pulls away, sliding his way down Seokmin’s chest, pausing to flick the tip of his tongue over a nipple just to hear Seokmin’s quiet whine. “Let me take care of you?” Minghao asks, nuzzling into the meat of Seokmin’s inner thigh, soft mouth scattering kisses like so many flower petals. 

“You say that every time.” Seokmin rolls his eyes but can’t quite help the way he shivers at the slip of Minghao’s pink tongue tracing along the tense line of his quad. 

“I mean it every time,” Minghao murmurs. He looks intently up at Seokmin, ignoring the embarrassing tent in Seokmin’s briefs, and he feels his insides liquefy in seconds. He’s so--

Minghao, he just--

He _does_ something to Seokmin, always has. Makes him overeager and messy, makes him want, so desperately. Makes him _feel_ wanted, desired. 

Seokmin likes his body, appreciates it for what it is, what it allows him to do, but Minghao...when Minghao puts his tongue and teeth and wide, strong hands on Seokmin, he sees stars. The first time he let Minghao eat him out, Seokmin came twice, crying from oversensitivity the whole way through his second orgasm, Minghao rutting against the bed with his tongue still inside Seokmin until he came, too. 

“It’s embarrassing,” Seokmin finally mumbles out, face flushed from more than just the summer heat. 

Minghao quirks a brow and sticks out his tongue, childish and silly. Not calling Seokmin out for being a hypocrite because somehow Minghao knows just when to push and when to make funny faces. 

The tension building in Seokmin’s shoulders eases and he takes a breath, two, lets himself sink a little deeper into the pillows at his back. It’s sweltering, now, everywhere they touch slick with sweat, and it should be gross but Seokmin can’t bring himself to mind.

Minghao’s deft thumbs are rubbing circles into the slight pudge of Seokmin’s belly as they lay there, breathing perfectly in sync until Seokmin hitches out a soft whine when Minghao’s left thumb digs in a little harder. Seokmin has never admitted how sensitive he is there, thinks it’s kind of weird that his stomach, of all places, seems to be an erogenous zone, but Minghao has always been sharp, eyes sharper, and he sussed it out within their first month of dating. 

“Okay?” Minghao is still looking up at him with dark eyes, thumbs back to their gentle caresses as Seokmin tries to think of reasons why he shouldn’t let Minghao continue. There are plenty, but none that Minghao will listen to. And it’s clear that Minghao wants this too; the way he’s lying between Seokmin’s spread thighs makes it obvious when Minghao’s hips kick down into the mattress, seeking friction. But Minghao doesn’t do anything else, doesn’t reach up and pluck at Seokmin’s nipples to make him gasp, doesn’t bite at his thighs or his belly to try and hurry his decision along. 

Minghao keeps looking, and Seokmin keeps breathing, slow and even. He’s sure the world keeps spinning around them, frantic and implacable, but Seokmin can’t tell, only has eyes for the vision that Minghao makes in front of him, soft skin and lanky limbs, the shock of dark hair feathering his arms and legs, tufting out of his armpits, crowning his head. His nose and cheeks are shiny with sweat, his ears shockingly bare. 

He looks like home.

“Okay,” Seokmin finally says. 

“Okay?” Minghao is teasing him now, Seokmin can tell, but before he can do anything more than pout, Minghao’s long fingers are diving beneath Seokmin’s body until they’re cupping his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and squeezing. His grip isn’t tight enough to bruise, but Seokmin wouldn’t mind if it was. 

“Turn over for me?” 

The innocent smile on Minghao’s face isn’t convincing in the slightest, but Seokmin is already hard, buzzing with anticipation and the heady knowledge that Minghao will take him apart just right. 

Seokmin sighs, just to keep up appearances, and flops onto his belly. He flaps a hand behind himself, the universal request for Minghao to fetch their sex towel, and he does, dragging one palm down the length of Seokmin’s leg as he slides off the bed to retrieve it. 

The late morning sun is climbing into noon territory now, no longer peeking through the cracks in their curtains like a curious child, and Seokmin knows that they had plans today to meet up with Mingyu and Seungkwan and some of the others for brunch, but they don’t do this very often--Seokmin doesn’t _need_ it very often--so he doesn’t feel bad for begging off just this once. 

“Xīn'ài, where’d you go?” Seokmin says after at least a minute or two has passed, and startles when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. Minghao is standing at the foot of their bed, completely nude but for the camera strap that he has wrapped around his neck. It’s his nice DSLR, the one that Mingyu got him for his birthday last year, and he has it trained on Seokmin, who isn’t sure how to react.

“Sorry sorry,” Minghao murmurs as he puts the camera down on the one bookshelf that isn’t completely consumed in friendly clutter, and starts his loping stride back towards the bed before he pauses. The door to their ensuite is cracked open from the night before--Seokmin doesn’t like to sleep in total darkness but refuses to use a nightlight after Soonyoung teased him about it recently--and Minghao tosses the sex towel and lube to Seokmin before opening it wide, floor length mirror on the back of the door catching a few lingering rays of sun and reflecting them onto the length of Seokmin’s spine. 

“Is the feng shui alright now?”

Minghao snorts, settling himself back between Seokmin’s thighs, and Seokmin lets himself relax again as Minghao manouveurs his body the way he wants: towel under Seokmin’s hips, legs spread just wide enough that he can feel it pull at his muscles a bit, hand reaching back at Minghao’s insistence to pull one cheek to the side, letting Minghao see all of him. 

“You better not be taking pictures of my asshole right now,” Seokmin gripes, because it’s too much sometimes, the weight of Minghao’s regard resting on him heavier than gravity. 

“I’m a real artist Seokmin-ah, I wouldn’t stoop to something so gimmicky.” Seokmin thinks about the time Minghao drunkenly took pictures of each one of his toes and threatened to submit them to an exhibit if Seokmin didn’t agree that he had cute feet, and wisely decides not to say anything.

And not just because Minghao takes that moment to lick the flat of his tongue across Seokmin’s hole. It’s even wetter and hotter than the air around them, but not by much. 

“Oh, alright,” Seokmin breathes, face tilted to the side so he doesn’t suffocate himself in one of their pillows. They’ve had a few close calls before, and Seokmin would really prefer that no ambulances be involved in his sex life. 

“Love the way you taste,” Minghao says after a few more long, unhurried swipes of his tongue. “Can I put it inside now baby?”

Seokmin nods quickly, the frantic shake of his head at odds with the way Minghao leans back in and wriggles his tongue slowly inside the tight pucker of his hole. 

It feels heady, alcoholic, the way that Minghao sinks into him, easier each time, until Seokmin feels so open he shakes with it. The wet sounds of Minghao’s tongue working inside him are obscene, slick and incriminating, and Seokmin would be desperately humping the bed if Minghao didn’t have a vice grip on his thighs, pushing them even wider just to watch Seokmin squirm. 

Minghao is so good at this.

His mouth works intently, playing with Seokmin’s rim with the tip of his tongue, barely pushing past the twitching muscle and then retreating as soon as Seokmin lets out a breathless moan, lipping at the saliva dripping down his crack and pushing it back inside, making Seokmin shiver at how dirty it feels. Minghao pulls harder at Seokmin’s cheeks, putting him even more on display, and opens his mouth wide so he can shove his tongue as far as it can go into Seokmin, curling inside him in a way that makes him feel desperate for more, for deeper, harder. 

Seokmin whines, high pitched and loud. Fuck, he can feel Minghao’s smirk against the curve of his ass, and it shouldn’t make his whole body flash hot and needy, but Minghao always makes him feel like this, out of control and desperate and so horny he thinks he could melt from it. 

There comes a point every time they do this where Seokmin wants Minghao to stop fucking around and take him apart for real. Usually it takes a while, because Seokmin is good at being patient, and Minghao is very good at making it worth his while, but Seokmin already feels swallowed whole by the need for more, Minghao’s lips and tongue and blunt, pretty teeth not enough for what Seokmin wants.

“Hao,” he whimpers the next time Minghao sinks his tongue inside. He’s so relaxed and loose there’s barely any friction, opening up easily for Minghao, letting him suck noisily at his entrance even though he knows Seokmin gets squirmy and embarrassed when he does that. 

“Mmm?”

“Fuck you,” he huffs out after Minghao bites at the meat of his asscheek, because he knows that Minghao knows exactly what he wants. He also knows that Minghao won’t give it to him unless he does exactly what _Minghao_ wants. 

“Just tell me what you want Seok, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Want you to hurry up.”

Seokmin expects to hear a longsuffering sigh and then more of Minghao’s gentle coaxing, but instead all he hears (and feels) is the filthy squelch of Minghao’s tongue fucking back into him, quick and ruthless and utterly overwhelming, forcing out breathless little _ah, ah, ahs_ from the back of his throat. 

“Minghao!” Seokmin snaps when he can finally get a full breath in. “You know that’s--ah, fuck--” another smooth push inside, Minghao’s tongue curling up, so close to his prostate but not quite enough, “that’s not what I meant!”

“What did you mean then?”

Seokmin twists his neck so he can glare at Minghao and immediately regrets it. Minghao is staring up at him, like he knew what Seokmin would do, and his mouth is just awful to look at, lips puffy and swollen and slick with his own saliva. He’s flushed all the way down his neck and chest and suddenly all Seokmin wants to do is paint Minghao’s whole body with the pink of his mouth.

His palms are itchy with the desire to grab Minghao’s hips and never let go, but he knows Minghao won’t let him touch until he does what Minghao wants. 

Forfeit has never tasted so sweet.

“Want you to use your fingers on me--in me,” Seokmin breathes. He doesn’t look away from Minghao. “Want your hands, please Hao, I need it.” 

Minghao’s mouth drops open, his inhale loud and ragged, and maybe Seokmin isn’t as lean and pale and pretty as Minghao, but he can still make Minghao look like _this_ , debauched and glassy eyed and wanting, and that’s not nothing. 

It’s so familiar, the way Minghao grins up at him. A little crooked, and so sweet Seokmin feels his belly ache from it.

It’s familiar, too, the way Minghao uses one narrow shoulder to hold Seokmin’s leg open so he can push a long finger through the mess of Seokmin’s ass and slip inside to press intently at his prostate. 

Seokmin tenses and whines at the pressure, eyes slipping closed involuntarily. He wants to watch Minghao, but he’s too close. Now that Minghao has stopped teasing and started fucking his fingers into Seokmin in earnest, two of them now, using nothing but Minghao’s spit as lube, Seokmin knows that he’ll come sooner rather than later. Especially because Minghao’s mouth is free to wander, nipping along the backs of Seokmin’s thighs and murmuring filthy promises into the dip of his spine. 

His dick is aching and he’s been leaking precome since the moment Minghao started licking at him, and now it’s getting unbearable, the need to touch himself nearly impossible to resist. 

Minghao scissors his fingers apart and wriggles his tongue into the space he’s made, and Seokmin is only human. He works his hand beneath his stomach and grabs his dick, wet and pulsing with the need to come, and whimpers when Minghao presses deeper.

The air is so humid it’s hard to breathe, and with every gasping inhale Seokmin takes he can taste sex on the back his tongue. 

He thumbs desperately at the head of his slippery cock and feels his whole body beginning to contract in pleasure, toes curling and left hand gripping so harshly he hears a ripping sound come from--Seokmin cracks an eye open to check--Minghao’s orthopedic pillow.

“Ah, fuck,” he gasps, partially in apology and partially because Minghao is now teasing a third finger into his opening, easing his way inside untill all three of his fingers are bunched up and playing with Seokmin’s prostate.

“So pretty like this Seokminnie,” Minghao rasps, voice deep and knowing. “ _Fuck_ , you sound so good. Let me see you come on my fingers baby.”

Minghao likes it when he can get Seokmin to come like this, just fingers and tongue and filthy words dripping from his mouth like honey, and who is he to deny Minghao what he wants?

Seokmin feels his whole body flash hot and needy and then he’s coming, pleasure spiking in his gut and washing over the whole of him, Minghao working his fingers in deeper even as Seokmin’s body clenches uncontrollably around him. He lets out a shaky cry when Minghao’s other hand spreads across the whole of one thigh and grips tight, fingernails digging in just enough to sting, to make tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

He’s gasping, twitching at every little touch, and feels so utterly boneless he’s not sure he’ll be able to move out of the wet spot. 

“Here, let me,” Minghao starts, and then he’s gently pulling his fingers free even as Seokmin whimpers, feeling empty and needy and oversensitive. Minghao pushes at Seokmin’s side with his clean hand until he musters the energy to roll over, and then he’s a blur of movement, wiping his hand off on the sex towel--Seokmin takes a brief moment to preen at his own foresight--and then leaning in to press soft kisses to the apples of Seokmin’s cheeks, his nose, the moue of his mouth. 

“Mmm,” Seokmin hums against Minghao’s lips. 

“Hmmm?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and shimmies happily at Minghao’s quiet giggle. 

“How’re you feeling?”

Seokmin closes his eyes and hums again, lets Minghao press another kiss to the sweaty hollow of his throat.

“Babe, hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Minghao laughs, and Seokmin cracks an eye open so he can see his pretty smile. 

“I’m awake,” Seokmin insists, but he knows it wouldn’t take much for him to drift off again, all his limbs feeling heavy and useless with lingering pleasure. 

“Good,” and Minghao is grinning just like Seokmin thought, but it’s not his _I’m so happy and in love_ smile that Seokmin expected, more along the lines of his _it’s so cute that you think I’m done with you_ smirk, and it makes Seokmin open his eyes all the way and glance down at where Minghao is still hard in his briefs. “Can you go again Jagiya?”

It’s been a while since he last let Minghao eat him out like that, and he’s ninety-five percent positive that Minghao had somehow removed all the bones from his legs during it, but suddenly the aching emptiness he felt when Minghao pulled his fingers out flares up again, so much so that he shivers and clenches down on nothing, and, well. Why not?

“Only if you do all the work,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically, and Minghao peppers kisses all up and down Seokmin’s neck and collarbones in response.

Seokmin stays where he is as Minghao moves around him, giggling when he notices Minghao adjusting himself in his briefs. He blows Minghao’s crotch a kiss from his position on the bed and Minghao catches it swiftly, smoothing his hand over his heart absently as he turns on the overhead fan. Seokmin smiles at the tender gesture and then shivers, sweat cooling on his flushed skin even though the air is still heavy with heat. 

“You’re taking too long Xīn'ài,” Seokmin teases while Minghao is still shuffling around their room. “I’m fast asleep now.” He squints his eyes most of the way shut and adds a few unconvincing snores while he’s at it. 

“Oh no,” Minghao says as he finally clambers back on the bed, one large palm resting on Seokmin’s hip. Seokmin turns his head, eyes still mostly scrunched closed, to covertly watch Minghao shuffle out of his briefs, erection slapping obscenely against the flat plane of his stomach. Seokmin shivers again. “How should I wake my sleepy Seokminnie up?” he ponders aloud, scratching at his chin. 

Minghao is the funniest person that Seokmin has ever met, but it took a while after they started dating for him to humor Seokmin when he does these little bits. Seungkwan blames it on too many years of drama and improv classes, and honestly Seokmin thinks he’s probably right. But he likes doing it, spouting off some nonsense and watching as Minghao huffs a laugh and then rolls with it, just because he knows it makes Seokmin happy.

“He likes it when I tickle him,” Minghao muses aloud, one hand lazily stroking down Seokmin’s leg until Minghao has long fingers wrapped around his ankle. 

Seokmin twitches slightly but doesn’t pull away as he snores out a loud, “Zzzz no tickling please zzzzz.”

“I thought you were supposed to yes, and in improv,” Minghao whispers conspiratorily, and Seokmin has to bite his lip to keep his laugh from bubbling out. Minghao taps his fingers once, twice, three times on the top of Seokmin’s foot before pulling away, humming again thoughtfully.

“...Or maybe not. I guess I could kiss him awake,” Minghao says, and Seokmin nods his head, puckering his lips in a helpful pout. 

He expects the kiss that Minghao presses to his mouth, soft and familiar, something that Seokmin hopes he never takes for granted. He even expects the way Minghao’s mouth drifts away, peppering kisses across his cheek and the shell of his ear. What he doesn’t expect is the rasping, throaty sound of Minghao’s voice directly in his ear asking, “I wonder if he’d like to be fucked awake, hmm? So messy and ready for it, so open, I bet I could slide right in.”

Seokmin swallows, loud and obvious in the quiet of their room. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Minghao continues, deft hands dropping down to uncap the lube, quickly pushing three slicked up fingers back into Seokmin and making him shiver. “Would he like that?” 

“Well obviously we’re gonna talk about that more some other time, but, fuck, yeah, I think he might” Seokmin says, finally abandoning the bit and looking over his shoulder, one brow arched in question. 

Minghao shrugs, but he’s got a nervous little smile on his face that makes Seokmin’s heart clench. 

“I didn’t know you were into that.”

Minghao shrugs again, cock bobbing against his belly, and Seokmin makes the executive decision to deal with Minghao _wanting to fuck him awake_ some other time. 

“Come here and kiss me again,” Seokmin commands, and Minghao does. Cups Seokmin’s jaw in his wide palm and licks eagerly into Seokmin’s mouth, and Seokmin knows he’s going to get hard again soon. 

When Seokmin tries to flip over onto his back a few minutes later, Minghao doesn’t let him. 

“Want you like this,” he licks at his swollen lips and repositions Seokmin just the way he wants. Seokmin doesn’t understand why Minghao has corralled him into the middle of the bed, laying at an angle so his feet are almost hanging off the edge, until Minghao crowds up behind him and nibbles at the shell of his ear. “Look at you,” Minghao whispers, and it’s only then that Seokmin notices the mirror and the stretch of their bodies reflected in it. 

“Oh.”

“Is this alright?”

Seokmin squirms at the way Minghao’s looking at him. 

“I’m gonna look so dumb when I come,” he whines, glancing away from Minghao’s eyes in the mirror and zeroing in on the spread of Minghao’s hand on the jut of his hip.

“No you won’t.”

Seokmin huffs. “Yes I will.”

Minghao pinches him lightly, causing Seokmin to yelp. “Stop calling my partner ugly.”

Seokmin doesn’t answer, just purses his lips in another pout and rolls his eyes.

“Baby, let me see you, please? For me?”

He doesn’t answer right away, lets himself think about it. Minghao doesn’t ask for much that Seokmin isn’t absolutely willing to give, and it’s not even that he’s unwilling to do this, it just...feels like too much, somehow. 

“Okay,” Seokmin agrees. He twists around uncomfortably so he can grab Minghao’s jaw and take his lips in a hard kiss. It’s awkward, the angle all wrong, everything uncoordinated and sloppy. It’s still pretty hot, though.

He turns back around quickly, lingering just long enough to smile at the hooded look Minghao is giving him, and wriggles around until he’s comfortable, waving a hand towards Minghao in the universal request for him to grab their backup sex towel. 

Minghao laughs and walks over to his wardrobe where the backup is hanging conveniently from the doorknob. Seokmin raises an eyebrow at him and laughs too when all Minghao responds with is, “What? I woke up horny.”

“Fine fine, come over here then. If you’re quick about it we might even be able to catch the last half of brunch with the boys.”

It doesn’t take long for Seokmin to realize that Minghao isn’t planning on being quick about it at all. Oh, he makes it seem like that at first - coming up behind Seokmin again to drag his palms all over Seokmin’s torso, down his waist and to the meat of his thighs, using one strong hand to lift his leg just high enough that he can slide inside in one smooth, easy glide, just hard enough to settle his hips firmly against Seokmin’s ass.

He lets out a shaky sigh because fuck, it feels good. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, lets himself feel the stretch and fullness, pleasure slow and sweet like molasses already building again, coiling in his belly. 

“Fuck,” Minghao says, no louder than a whisper, and Seokmin smiles in response. 

Minghao does all the work, just like he promised, pulling out leisurely with a kiss to the back of Seokmin’s neck and then fucking back in hard enough to punch a cry out of him, over and over again until Seokmin is lost, dizzy with it. It’s slow and deep and excruciating, and Seokmin isn’t even thinking about what he must look like in the mirror’s reflection until Minghao bites at his ear and rasps, “Look at you--look at us.”

Seokmin does.

At first, all he notices are the bad parts--the softness of his stomach, the embarrassing string of drool that’s connecting his open mouth with a wet spot on their sheets, the way his body almost completely eclipses Minghao’s, so that he can really only see the tuft of his dark hair and knobbly feet stretching past Seokmin’s ankles. 

He blinks and Minghao shifts, just a bit, just enough that his arms twine around Seokmin, one palm pressing into the sensitive pudge of his belly, the other wrapping tenderly around his throat, and now Seokmin thinks he gets it, because he can see all the ways that Minghao is touching him, taking him apart, can watch as Minghao uses his grip on Seokmin to pull him down harder onto Minghao’s cock and, oh. Oh, _fuck_. Seokmin feels like he’s burning, melting at all their points of contact, Minghao’s pale fingers shocking against the tan of his skin, shocking with how hot they feel digging into his skin. 

“You’re so good,” Minghao grunts on his next thrust in, and Seokmin whines helplessly at the praise, at the way Minghao stays sheathed inside and grinds his hips likes he’s trying to get deeper, like he can fill Seokmin any more when Seokmin already feels like he’s overflowing with it. “So good for me, such a good boy.”

The hand Minghao has on his belly is rubbing insistent little circles into his skin, finding his sensitive spots and exploiting them ruthlessly as Seokmin gasps and whimpers and twitches at everything Minghao does, at everything Minghao says, watching himself in the mirror all the while. 

It’s a surprise, almost, when Minghao takes his leaking cock in hand and starts stroking it quickly, and Seokmin would close his eyes in bliss if he didn’t meet Minghao’s gaze in the mirror, if Minghao wasn’t looking right at him, right into him, the furrow between his brows that Seokmin privately thinks of as his cumcentration face making him look like a sexy warrior, an avenging angel. 

“Are you close?”

“You--oh, fuck. You know I am,” Seokmin whines, desperate for it now, greedy for the way Minghao makes him feel. 

“What do you need?” 

“Your hands, please,” is all Seokmin has to say before Minghao complies, both hands coming down now to play with his cock and knuckle into the tender softness of his stomach. Minghao pulls out until just the head of his dick is holding him open and Seokmin grunts with the effort it takes to push back onto Minghao’s cock himself, grumbling, “I need your dick, too, Xīn'ài,” and making Minghao tremble with laughter. 

“Sorry sorry, you can have it,” Minghao reassures, and ruts his hips in harder, punching another embarrassing noise out of Seokmin’s throat. “You can have anything you want.”

It only takes a few more thrusts for Seokmin to feel the tidal wave of orgasm roll through him again, flashing hot everywhere Minghao is touching him--narrow hips cradled in the dip of his spine, pretty hands fluttering over his chest and belly and cock, lips mouthing wetly at the back of his neck, dick stretching him open and making him _shake_ as he spills over Minghao’s fingers, dripping onto his stomach and the backup sex towel because he can’t hold still, keeps shivering and shuddering until Minghao grabs at his waist and ruts back into him, frantic and uncontrolled.

Seokmin’s mouth drops open on a moan, trembling through the aftershocks. He likes everything they do together, everything Minghao does to him, always will, but the moments after he comes, when Minghao finally lets loose and lets himself _take_. Seokmin will never get tired of it. 

“I want to take you apart,” Minghao groans into the sweat-damp hair of Seokmin’s nape and Seokmin clenches down, shudders when Minghao fucks back in harder. “I want to fuck you all the time, want to leave my cock inside you, never want to leave, fuck, I just,” and he comes, holding Seokmin tightly against his chest, emptying himself inside and staying there, twitching, until his cock starts to go soft, and then a little longer after that, until Seokmin can feel his cum starting to trickle down his thigh and onto the backup sex towel. 

Maybe one day he’ll stop being smug about knowing when they’ll need the sex towels, but Seokmin doesn’t think it’ll be today. 

“That was a lot, huh?” Seokmin says when Minghao finally pulls away with a groan. Seokmin scrunches his nose up at the feeling of cum dripping out of him and immediately flaps his hand at Minghao, the universal signal for _get me a wet wipe immediately_. They both prefer fucking bare but, God, he’ll never get used to it. 

Minghao huffs out a sigh but is only gone for a moment before putting his hand back on Seokmin’s waist, stroking it with the tips of his fingers before murmuring, “Sorry, it’ll be cold,” and cleaning up the mess he’s made. 

It’s probably past noon by now but Seokmin would have to stand to track down his phone and then he’d have to face the surely dozens of texts from Soonyoung about them ditching brunch, and that simply doesn’t seem feasible, so instead he waits until Minghao tosses the wipes away and drags the towel out from under him, and then he uses all the energy left in his fucked out body to grab Minghao’s arm and drag him back onto the bed so they can cuddle.

“Seok,” Minghao scolds, trying to squirm away, but Seokmin just lets his eyes close and his body go limp. “If we leave soon we could still make the tail end of brunch.” Seokmin cracks an eye open just so Minghao can fully understand how dumb that idea is before closing it again. 

“I can’t move.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” Seokmin whines, and tries not to preen too obviously when Minghao sighs again, in defeat this time, and flops down beside Seokmin. 

“The guys are going to give us hell for this, babe. This is like the fifth time this year and it’s barely July.” 

Seokmin shrugs and maneuvers them around the way _he_ wants them, Minghao laying on his back with Seokmin snugged up against his side, legs tangled together, playing idly with the dark hair on Minghao’s chest. 

They have a rare Sunday off and Seokmin just got his higher thinking fucked out of him by his loving partner, and now he wants to cuddle and trade sweet, lazy kisses until he physically can’t anymore. Their friends can wait. 

Minghao cocks his head and looks down the length of his nose at Seokmin and--it shouldn’t make his breath catch, the way Minghao looks at him. 

The way Minghao loves him. 

But it does, every time, and Seokmin can’t help but lean up to take Minghao’s pink mouth with his, trying to tell him with his lips and his hands and his body everything he does to Seokmin, everything he means. 

He’s not sure it works, but he knows he has all the time in the world to practice.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from angel olsen's song 'iota' which i highly recommend listening at some point bc it's great!! pls lemme know if u liked this, i love comments and kudos and also yelling abt seokmin thighs on twitter @ scissorghost


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